


The Return of Sherlock Holmes

by we_are_all_mad_here



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Cabernet Sauvignon, Eggs Benedict, Flowers, French!Sherlock, Gen, Kind of Dad John??, Kind of Mum Mary??, Lilacs, Mysteries, Nervous!John, Notes, Previously Arrested, Proposals, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:05:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1812898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_all_mad_here/pseuds/we_are_all_mad_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock's fall of St. Barts, John needs to find some way to cope. He runs into Mary Mortsan and, after two and a half years of dating, decides to take it to the next level. But Sherlock wouldn't have that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm I am not sure about the timeline issues in this fic but I think I'm pretty accurate, if you notice any inaccuracies can you please tell me and I'll try and correct it but I'm not entirely sure how :)   
> Also...I have different chapters but I'm not sure if I can figure out how to...Whoops. 
> 
> Ooh and Lilacs are the symbol for first love so I thought I would put that in there :)

The plant stood on the window sill, its leaves drooping and dying; the chlorophyll having given up the fight weeks ago and leaving the normally vibrant green leaves a light green colour with a grey tinge to it. It was only natural that plants would de but this one seemed to give up unusually quickly, having only lasted a couple of days before giving up.  
John frowned down at the small selection of Lilacs in front of him and pouted slightly at the plant before turning around and returning back into his and Mary’s bedroom. The small child lay sleeping in his cot at the end of the bed and John smiled gently down at him before returning to the bed next to Mary and falling into a semi-conscious state.

After an hour or two Mary began to stir, turning around to nestle her head into the crook of John’s neck. Her hair smelled like watermelon as it always did. Her favourite shampoo was never in short supply – John saw to that himself.   
‘Morning love.’ She mumbled groggily, ‘is the baby awake yet?’  
‘Almost I think; I can hear him rustling around down there.’ John sighed into her hair; not quite ready to face the day just yet.  
‘I cannot wait to return him to Dave so that we can finally have some peace and quiet in the household, maybe I will even get a full night’s sleep!’  
‘Mhmm.’ John mumbled, his mind drifting off again. He had only got onto the edge of falling asleep again when a shrill cry broke through the previously calm atmosphere and Mary lurched forward to fetch the baby; her maternal instinct taking over.  
‘Shh, it’s okay baby...Shh...’ Mary rocked the baby back and forth, bouncing gently up and down until his cries turned into quiet mewls and gurgles as he tried to communicate his need. Not that the adults needed to talk to him to know what was wrong; John could smell the contents of his nappy from all the way at the other end of the bed and his stomach was almost as loud as a whale when it rumbled.  
‘I’ll get the food and you can change the nappy?’ John grinned, rolling out of his bed.  
‘No no no, Mr Watson. You are on nappy duty today. I did it yesterday.’ Mary nods her head and passes the baby over to John, quickly skipping out of the room so that John couldn’t return the...Gift.

John hurried into the bathroom where a changing table had been set up, various bottles and powders lined the length of the table and John only had to take one look to figure out that he wasn’t going to have any idea what any of them did. He pulled his talcum powder from the shelf as he laid the baby down on the table, frowning deeply as it began to squeal in distaste.  
‘Yes alright, I’ll be there in a minute!’   
The baby squealed again and began to whimper, not liking the lack of attention.  
John grasped a hold of a nappy and the talcum powder and placed them next to a small pot of baby wipes before staring at the wriggling child in confusion. Now what?  
He carefully took hold of the baby’s legs and held them down before trying – and failing – to undo the poppers on the baby grow.   
‘Hold on, hold on.’ John sighed. Mary was so much better at this than he was but he had to learn. He was going to propose to Mary next week, out at dinner for their anniversary and was hoping to start a family. Well, maybe someday.  
He released the baby’s legs and yanked open the outfit, tickling the baby’s stomach so it didn’t start to bawl again. Now. Time for the big one. Time for the nappy to be opened. John held his breath and peeled back the nappy, revealing a not so pleasant surprise inside. John had to act quickly; he could only hold his breath for so long and ten seconds had already been and gone.   
He cleaned up quickly and put the new nappy on the baby with difficulty, not sure what he was supposed to do with it. Once he had figured out that the sticky sides were for sticking down on the nappy, the rest was fairly simple – Redress the wriggling baby in a small amount of time and deposit the dirty nappy in the bin. He finished quickly but still felt like he was forgetting something; oh yeah, breathing.

He hurried downstairs with the now clean infant and grinned at Mary. ‘See? I told you I could do it!’  
‘I never doubted you, love.’  
‘Good. What’s for brekkie?’  
‘Eggs. I’m thinking eggs Benedict but I’m not sure if we have anything.’  
‘Mmm my favourite.’ John chuckles, placing the baby down into the high chair situated at the end of the table.   
‘Oh, I think we got some post, love. Can you go and check please?’  
‘Sure.’ John jumped up off of his seat and marched over to the door of their apartment, swinging it open enthusiastically – It was a nice day after all.  
John’s cheery mood vanished when he saw what the post entailed: A small bunch of lilacs, not unlike the ones currently occupying their bedroom window sill, and a note. It was small and typed as if the sender wanted to remain anonymous.

‘I saw they were dying. Enjoy.  
-SH’

They could never remain anonymous. Not to John. To anyone else the two letters would mean nothing but to John they meant everything. He picked the flowers up and rushed back inside, locking the door behind him. A sick joke. Sick. The lilacs had been coming for months now, normally on Sundays but this one was different; this one had a note. It was someone’s idea of a practical joke, a way of prolonging John’s pain. Sherlock was dead. He was never coming back. And yet some people seemed unable to let go, John’s therapist implored him to do so, suggesting that Sherlock was never going to be able to rest in peace if John kept on mourning. But some people, sadists surely, thought it would be a good idea to inject small reminders into John’s life to keep stimulating the pain he felt that day at St. Barts, to keep him in agony wherever he went.   
The flowers had been ordered from overseas but when John had travelled to the store to ask about the sender, the shop keeper had merely said that they wished to remain anonymous and politely asked John, who was causing a slight bit of fuss, to leave the store. 

John returned back inside, a gloomy look on his face as he sat down at the table, reaching for his coffee before hissing as he burnt himself on the cup. ‘Agh!’ He exclaimed.  
‘You alright, dear?’ Mary called over as she turned around. ‘Oh...’  
‘Yeah, oh. There was a note this time.’ He hands over the note and watches as Mary’s eyes widen when she takes in the name, almost as if she feared it.  
‘That’s ‘SH’ as in...’  
‘Yeah, Sherlock Holmes.’ John buries his head in his hands and smiles slightly as he feels Mary’s warm palm on his shoulders. ‘When will it end?’  
‘I don’t know. Do you think you should call the police? Claim you have a stalker?’  
John shakes his head, ‘I know this may sound ridiculous but what if it is actually him...What if he is trying to tell me that he didn’t die that day?’   
‘Then why hasn’t he come forward? Told me that he was alive?’  
‘Maybe he can’t. Maybe he isn’t here...In another country or something.’  
‘He would have contacted me. I would hope he respects me enough to do that at least.’  
Mary sighed. ‘Don’t get yourself too caught up, John. This is only speculation, okay?’  
‘Thanks, love.’  
She kissed his head and ruffled the baby’s hair, him cooing and gurgling in return. ‘It’s okay. You want eggs now?’   
‘Mm, yes please.’   
‘Okay. Feed the baby?’  
‘’Course.’ John chuckled and put the lilacs under the table, in a box containing all of the bunches of flowers they had received in the past three years.   
The baby squealed as John picked him up again and laid him down in his arms, grabbing his milk bottle from the table and gently placing it between the baby’s lips, holding still for a moment before the baby began to drink and he let his hand relax slightly.   
‘Did Dave say when he was coming back?’  
‘He said it was sometime this week but he didn’t actually say when. He’s always like that though isn’t he? A bit wiffy-waffy.’  
John chuckles at Mary’s words choice and nods. ‘Yeah, suppose so.’

The day continued in much the same way that the morning had; the usual posters and TV documentaries telling tales about Sherlock’s life and where it all went wrong. John had previously been arrested and released after tearing down the posters claiming that both Sherlock and John were fakes. After that he learnt to be more discrete about his goings on. John had seen nothing more of Mycroft since Sherlock ‘died’ and he hoped it stayed that way, dredging up the past was something John would rather bury down.


	2. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary and John go out to dinner when John tries - and fails - to propose.

It’s a week later and John is preparing himself for his dinner out with Mary, smoothing is moustache down and tucking his tie into his suit jacket.  
‘Are you ready, love?’ Mary called out, walking into the bathroom. She was wearing a purple dress with translucent straps over her shoulders. She must have brought it recently and John blushed lightly at the thought that she went to all of that trouble for their anniversary. It was an expensive dress and Mary was only a part-time nurse so she must have saved up some.  
‘Yeah, almost.’ John straightened his suit and kissed Mary’s cheek before ushering her out the door, discretely grabbing a small black velvet box on his way out of the house.   
They both got in the cab and drove to the restaurant, John casting a cursory glance along the street and frowning when he noticed a flower delivery service with a bunch of lilacs. 

After a few moments they reached the restaurant and John quickly paid for the cab, looping his arm around Mary’s and walking inside with confidence – More confidence then he had had for the past three years. ‘Time to start anew’ he thought to himself as the waitress took them to their table, John pulling the chair out for Mary before he sat down himself. The waitress left quickly with the claim that ‘their waiter would be along soon.’  
‘Well, isn’t this lovely?’ Mary started off.  
‘Yeah, I thought there was no expense spared for my girlfriend on our anniversary. I just hope it lives up to expectations...Look, I’ve been think-‘  
‘Oh, hold on,’ Mary took her phone out of her bag and quickly silenced it, frowning deeply when it interrupted John’s speech. ‘Okay, go on.’  
‘Right...I’ve been think-‘  
‘Hello there, my name is Matthew and I’ll be your server today, can I get you any drinks to start off with?’ A sparky young man chirped, almost bouncing on his feet as he talked to them.  
John internally groaned at his second interruption and nodded. ‘Uh, yeah. Mary love what do you want?’  
‘Can I have a water please?’  
The young man nodded with a smile and turned back to John. ‘And for you, Sir?’  
‘I’ll have a Cabernet Sauvignon please,’ John smiled.  
‘Fantastique, I’ll bring them right over for you.’ And with that he was gone; no time for polite chit-chat apparently.   
The pair stayed in awkward silence for a few moments after the waiter left and John smiles over at Mary, picking nervously at the table cloth. It had an intricate design on the underside which made John wonder why it wasn’t the other way round. It would be a lot more attractive.  
‘What were you saying earlier, John? Before all of the interruptions?’  
‘What? Oh yeah, right. Well, I was wondering, I mean we already live together...’  
Mary perked up and nodded her head quickly, ‘Yes?’  
‘Well I mean...’ John froze up, a sudden bout of nerves taking over. ‘Uhm...’ He frowns and suddenly feels a bit nauseous. What if she says no?  
Mary frowned slightly and stood up, standing next to the table. ‘I’ll be right back okay, you can... Figure out what you are trying to say.’  
John nods gratefully and Mary walks towards the toilets just as the waiter comes back with John’s wine, he smiles his thanks and the waiter walks away again as another table catch his attention. John sighs and places his head in his hands, frowning slightly as a waiter apologised for spilling a drink a couple of tables over. He thought they were supposed to be well trained staff. No matter, it didn’t impact John. He removed the ring from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him, hoping it would give him confidence with what he was about to do.


	3. The Return of Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally makes an appearance but he is french???

‘Can I ‘elp you with anything, sir?’ A French accent calls out from behind him, not Matthew but another one.  
‘Hi, yeah. I’m looking for a bottle of champagne – a good one.’ John decided they may as well celebrate his confidence whether or not she says yes.  
‘Mmm! Well these are all excellent vintages.’  
John frowned slightly and shook his head. ‘Er, its not really my area. What do you suggest?’   
The waiter spoke on something about wines and personal recommendations but John was only half listening. ‘Mm-hmm.’  
‘This last one on the list is a favourite of mine, it is – you might, in fact, say – like a face from ze past.’   
There was a slight movement next to him but John was looking at the menu, not noticing what the waiter was up to.  
‘Great, I’ll have that one please.’ John finishes his glass of red wine and places the glass back on the table.  
‘It is familiar, but, er, with the quality of surprise!’ The waiter exclaims and John notices his accent loosen on the last word but it was no matter for John who was growing impatient.  
‘Well, er, surprise me.’   
John swore he heard the waiter mumble: ‘Certainly endeavouring to, Sir.’ But it could have been a trick of the architecture of the room.

Mary returned a few minutes later and took a sip of her water and smiled lightly at John. ‘Sorry that took so long.’  
John notices the box on the table, having previously forgotten to remove it. When Mary’s attention was distracted John quickly removed the ring box from the table and slid it into his pocket.  
‘You okay?’ Mary questioned, deciding to let him lead with whatever he was planning to do, although she already knew.  
‘Yeah, yeah. Me? Fine. I am fine.’ ‘Good one John. Way to play it cool.’ he thought to himself.  
‘Now then, what did you want to ask me?’  
‘More wine?’   
Mary chuckled. ‘No, I’m fine with water thanks.’  
It wasn’t as if there was much left, John had drank about half the bottle himself. ‘Right...’  
‘So...’ Mary trails off, allowing John to continue.  
John took a deep breath in then let in out in a gust of warm air. ‘Er, so... Mary. Listen, erm...’ Damn. ‘I know it hasn’t been long...I mean, I know we haven’t known each other for a long time...’ John looked away again, the small bout of confidence from a moment ago completely gone.  
‘Go on.’ Mary smiled.  
‘Yes, I will. As you know, these last couple of years haven’t been easy for me; and meeting you...’ He looks up at Mary with a small smile as if remembering all the support she provided him in Sherlock’s aftermath. ‘Yeah, meeting you has been the best thing that could have possibly happened.’  
Mary chuckles, ‘I agree.’  
This stops John short and he falters. ‘What?’  
‘I agree I’m the best thing that could have happened to you.’   
John chuckles and Mary scrunches her nose up awkwardly, only now realising that that maybe wasn’t the best thing to say. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbles.  
‘So... if you’ll have me, Mary, could you see your way, um... If you could see your way to...’  
John stops talking and frowns as the French waiter returns with a bottle of champagne in his hands.   
‘Sir, I think you’ll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking.’   
Mary practically face palms and laughs at john hiding behind her hand so the waiter couldn’t see her.   
The waiter continues: ‘It ‘as all of the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new.’  
John locks eyes with Mary and refuses to budge as he speaks. ‘No, sorry, not now, please.’ He practically begs the last word.  
‘Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers... Suddenly one is aware of staring into ze face of an old friend.’  
John huffs and looks up into the waiter’s eyes, ready t tell him to piss off and stop annoying them. ‘No, look, seriously...Could you just...’ He trails off as he recognises the face behind the accent.  
A face that was long since dead and should still be.

Sherlock.


End file.
